


record store || jr./youngjae

by beloniika



Series: Advent 2015 [14]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Music Store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beloniika/pseuds/beloniika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Youngjae stares, Jinyoung is a hipster, Jackson cheers from the sidelines</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	record store || jr./youngjae

“A-ha! I knew loverboy was around when I heard the music change. You ain’t slick, Youngjae!”

Youngjae looks up from the computer he was fiddling with in horror, coming face to face with Jackson returning behind the counter with an obnoxiously bright grin and getting all up in Youngjae’s space.

“Shush!” the younger hisses, “and get off me. Don’t you have any shelves to restock?” he asks in an attempt to distract the hyper coworker while checking if  _ anyone _ \--rather, the only customer in the shop, codename “loverboy”-- heard their exchange.

“They were in the same state as we left them yesterday, Jae,” Jackson huffs, making himself comfortable on a spare stool and propping an arm against the counter. “Hello, we are in the 21st century, basically  _ everyone  _ prefers downloading music in more or less legal ways than stepping foot in modest music stores such as this one,” he points out with a sassy shimmy of his head. Ever since the possibility to get music on your device with just a click became widespread, life at the music store became duller: the chimes of the doorbell are few and far in between Youngjae’s otherwise uninterrupted marathons at every Candy Crush variation he got on his phone, or Jackson’s impromptu workouts that always force him to mop the floor  _ again _ , and sales are less than stellar; sure, they may manage to sell the occasional CD or piece of merchandise, but not enough to satisfy the manager and get the raise he needs so badly.

Youngjae continues ignoring Jackson, keeping himself busy with the knick knacks by the cash register but always on the lookout in case the customer needs help. Meanwhile, his mind is in a turmoil as he tries to convince himself to approach the customer first, as he’s supposed to, but at the same time the other guy is a regular, so Youngjae is pretty sure he knows every nook and cranny of the shop almost as well as Jackson and himself do. There he is, roaming the vinyls section in his black rimmed glasses, striped shirt, too tight jeans and leather shoes, thumbing the cases and plucking one out every now and then, turning them to check the tracklists.

Jackson’s snickering at his side alerts Youngjae he might have been staring a bit too much, probably even sighed or, God forbid, drooled. If asked, Youngjae would’ve told his good-for-nothing older coworker that he was just mulling over how grateful he is for hipsters and their constant research for anything quirky or -mostly- obscure to the masses, otherwise the shop would’ve closed long ago, blaming the boss for refusing to make bank with bulk purchases from crazed idol groups fans...but alas Jackson didn’t ask him shit, (correctly) assuming that Youngjae was mooning about the raven haired man a few feet over.

“Excuse me?”

The customer’s voice carries well through the empty store and over the background music, startling Youngjae who thought he got caught staring.

“Y-Yes?” the clerk peeps, fighting the urge to smash his forehead against the corner of the cash register to gruesomely cover his embarrassment.

“What song is playing?” the other man asks, pointing his finger in a vague gesture to describe the music filling the shop.

What Jackson was referring to, earlier, scaring the crap out of Youngjae in the process, was the  _ coincidence  _ of an indie song abruptly cutting off the hip hop song (“that I picked myself,” the older coworker would sniff, miffed) playing on loudspeakers as soon as the black haired customer stepped in the shop, heading to his favorite section after greeting the cashier with a perfect smile.

“M-Medicine Man, by The Hush Sound,” Youngjae replies in stilted English, mentally praying the other understood; Youngjae saw him strain his ear, even squinting as if to focus better, and holds his breath, fully expecting to be asked to repeat, but fortunately the customer smiles sunnily, thanking the employee and going through the stacks of vinyls once again. With a triumphant, “A-ha!” the young man takes a vinyl case out with a flourish and immediately marches to the register, handing Youngjae the album that includes the previously mentioned song.

“Nice choice. Never heard of them before, but it convinced me to get their album,” the customer explains, eyes closed in happy, wrinkly half moons.

“I assume you’re the one who picks the songs I hear when come here? I liked most of your choices, I’d love to discuss them over a cup of coffee,” he adds, with a cheekier pull to his smile and a flirtier glint in his eyes.

Youngjae can only gape, at the same time as a strangled noise that’s supposedly a cheer erupts from his left, where Jackson threw his arms up in celebration for one of them finally making a move, a Cola flavored worm dangling unattractively from his mouth (how many of them is he actually chewing and wHERE THE HELL DID THEY COME FROM). The cashier turns to look back at the customer, floundering for words because “Hell yeah” is too desperate and a simple “Yes” is actually too difficult to enunciate when you can’t close your mouth.

“Oh, where are my manners. My name is Jinyoung,” the other proffers a hand, amused by the two guys in front of him.

“I kn-- I mean, hi. I’m Youngjae,” the cashier finally replies, shaking hands and turning fifteen shades of red not only for the situation, but also for his almost-slip-up: he feels guilty for still remembering the customer’s name from that one time he paid his splurges with a credit card, but “Park Jinyoung” embedded itself in Youngjae’s mind quicker than a summer jam, he couldn’t really help it.

Tired of this staring contest, Jackson hurriedly gulps his half-chewed candies and pipes up, loudly, “Don’t worry, I’ll man the fort, Youngjae is free to go on a date with you. You have my blessing!” He all but manhandles the younger male off the stool and pushes both him and Jinyoung out of the store, waving like a mad man, and shooting a hail of thumbs up and mini hearts at the two.

Youngjae automatically starts to follow a chuckling Jinyoung in the direction of the coffee shop down the street, but snaps out of it when he remembers, with horror, that he’s still wearing the shop uniform. As soon as the younger voices his concern, Jinyoung doesn’t try to hold his laughter back anymore, thoroughly endeared by the cashier he noticed observing him since a long time ago.

“You’re so cute,” Jinyoung says, effectively silencing Youngjae and enjoying the appearance of yet another shade of red on his cheeks, while they make their way to their cliché date.


End file.
